


We're not promised tomorrow

by eyasarcher



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: But mostly fluff, M/M, but its fine because their super soldiers boyfriends look after them, kinda angsty, steve is all fluffy and in love, tony and clint are taking all the hits here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 22:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7193384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyasarcher/pseuds/eyasarcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So as it turns out, Steve isn't the only one in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're not promised tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sat in my documents for at least three months, I was probably never going to fully finish it, so the end is a little abrupt. But I think it's time to share.

 

I wake up in bliss, warm golden rays of sunlight are pouring through the slats in the blinds and Tony’s heated body pressed lightly against mine spreads a pleasured shiver across my chest, and through the specs of dust littering  my vision I can see the hairs on my arms standing on end; I live for mornings like this.

Yesterday’s battle was a rough one, the evidence is on the body of the man encasing me. Tony’s ribs are tightly wound and yellowish-blue skin pokes out from beneath the bandages, his face, despite being pressed into the pillow, is obviously swollen on one side. And then there’s the stitched up laceration that sits dangerously close to Tony’s heart, a reminder that tomorrow is never certain. I huff slightly at the sight of my beaten lover before I sag into his arms and place a gentle kiss on his battered skin.

I lay in bed for a few more minutes, just listening to the bird song beyond my window and the vibrant humming that is ever prominent in the tower. I want to get up though, as much as I love mornings like this, if Tony isn’t awake to distract me, sometimes my mind can wonder too far.

I carefully unlace Tony’s bruised arms from around my middle, he shifts and huffs out before rolling across the bed and slouching into the pillows. I feel the familiar fluttering in my chest and a fond smile pulls itself onto my lips.

The tower is always weird following an intense battle, it’s so quiet. Usually everyone will separate for a while. Natasha will often pack up and go off for a little bit, sometimes, but rarely, taking Barton with her. Thor becomes more of a leader, he takes to checking up on everyone and making sure they’re all fed and hydrated. Bucky, well, he used to just disappear, but he doesn’t do that much anymore. Wanda could often be found on either the communal floor or in the library, she doesn’t usually pipe up again after a mission for at least three days and even so, she’ll only talk to Clint. Vision, well, it doesn’t seem to affect him as much as it does us, but I guess that’s a given. Barton is a bit stranger, he’ll either lock himself away and not re-appear for a week or so, or he’ll be doing the rounds with Thor, either way he never loses his humour, or at least he doesn’t act like it. And me and Tony, well, I can usually be found wherever he is, the man is a pain the ass, despite how he’s usually hurt (physically or psychologically) he doesn’t stop working; he’s the worst patient ever. And then there’s Sam, he’ll never let up that missions get to him, he’ll act perfectly fine, but I’ve found him sat at windows late at night, just watching the city.

Anyway, today doesn’t appear to be much different. There’s no loud and obvious thumping sounds indicating either loud music or training exercises, and according to Friday, everyone else is on their floors. So, given this information, I obviously don’t expect to walk onto the communal floor to hear voices speaking in hushed tones. I furrow my brows and knit them into a frown, it’s 6.30 in the morning, there’s rarely anyone awake this early on a normal day, let alone following a mission.

_“Honestly I promise… …. …. …… .. ….. Bucky, Buck… … James! Listen to me….”_

Bucky? Is he alright? I move slowly and quietly towards the opening to the main floor. I don’t wanna intrude but I wanna know that Bucky’s okay.

_“I was scared… ….. .. ….. .. I mean, I don’t know what happened… …. ..”_

I move closer.

“ _What were you afraid of? Hydra? Buck, they’ve not got anything on you anymore. You’re safe, you’re here with us; with me.”_

_“I know they have no control over my mind anymore, but they can still control aspects of my life. I almost lost you out there yesterday, I’m telling you, they know. They went after Steve and they went after you, they know, they know how much I love you.”_

That’s definitely Bucky’s voice, and whoever he is speaking to, is obviously important, I’ve never heard Bucky say that he loves anyone, at least not in this century.

“ _No, they went after me because I’m expendable and I was already hurt-“_

_“Clint, shut the fuck up, stop being a fucking punk. You’re not expendable, we talked about this. You’re an important member of this team, without you, we wouldn’t work the same, it’s like the equivalent of someone taking the battery out of a clock; we wouldn’t tick. Jesus Christ, I wouldn’t tick. You were the one who fixed me, without you… I’m not sure I’d be here,”_

_“Bucky, don’t say that.”_

_“Please though Clint, for the love of god. Take care of yourself.”_

I feel cemented to the floor, like my feet are stuck in a pit of quicksand. Everything makes sense and suddenly I feel very sick, I’ve just intruded on an obviously very personal conversation and my mind is working overtime. Of course Clint and Bucky are an item, how did I not realise?!

When Bucky had first moved into the tower, he was a recluse, difficult and brooding. And to make matters worse, no-one really wanted to talk to him, everyone was scared shitless of the man. Everyone apart from Clint.

I can literally remember the exact moment the two met, Clint had just returned from a mission and much to my horror, he had startled Bucky, and it wasn’t long before Buck had the archer pinned to the wall by his throat. Natasha was there, gun pointed at the back of Bucky’s head and Tony’s repulsors were trained on him too. Clint though, didn’t freak out or kick off, instead, he choked out laughter from behind Bucky’s metal hand clamped around his throat. Bucky had immediately dropped him, an apology on his lips and a frown on his face, but Clint had simply waved his hand in the air in an ‘it’s okay’ gesture before catching his breath and falling into a fit of laughter again. _“Been there, done that. Note to self, don’t surprise the new resident assassin.”_ That’s the first thing he’d said through the gravel in his voice. And since that day, the two were inseparable.

I had known that Clint had been good for Bucky, I had seen the progression and I had watched Bucky fit himself back together, piece by piece. And despite finding the two curled into each other asleep on the communal sofas at least four times a week for about two months, I never actually figured that they were more than friends. I had looked on in awe on many occasions as Clint had pulled Bucky’s mind from the depths of hell, I had watched the archer single handedly bring Bucky back to reality following some of his worst episodes. But I had never, ever figured it out.

Another thing I hadn’t quite realised up until recently, was that Bucky was good for Clint too; it was a two way street. I remember one particularly early morning I had been limbering up for a run, I like running before the world is awake, but anyway, I had been stretching and I had heard loud smashes and crashes, I immediately straightened up and followed the sounds, concern pinching my stomach, but what I had discovered was something completely unexpected.

Clint was in the range, he was throwing things across it, glasses and bottles, there were tears on his face and he was screaming, a horrible and agonised scream. I was just about ready to break down the doors and help him, but then there was Bucky, he was shouting at Clint through the noise and in the blink of an eye, he had encased the man in a hug. Clint’s form had been shaking and initially he had been reluctant but I had watched as he melted into Bucky’s arms. I didn’t really catch much of what was being said but Loki was definitely mentioned once or twice and that was enough for me, Bucky had it under control and I had left.

And now here I am, rooted to the spot and feeling like a complete idiot; and an intruder. It’s at this point that I realise the talking has stopped and in its place is a soft sobbing.

_“Buck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you yesterday. But look, I’m still here aren’t I?”_

There was humour in Clint’s voice but it wasn’t the most predominant tone, I heard the way his voice broke at the end, thick with regret and guilt.

_“I just… I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you Clint. I mean, obviously I love Stevie, but he’s my brother and my best friend. You, you’re my everything. I know that we’re not promised tomorrow, that the future is completely unstable and I’m afraid that we’ll be separated. I could never lose you, I could never see myself without you. I live for you, you are my purpose.”_

The hairs on my neck and my arms are stood up and there’s a sob threatening to leave my throat. Bucky loves him, Bucky actually loves him. I feel an overwhelming sense of pride and happiness dwelling in the pit of my stomach, I’m incredibly proud of both Bucky, and Clint.

**“I don’t mean to interrupt but given the nature of your conversation, following the privacy settings sir has in place, I believe that I should alert you both to Captain Rogers’s whereabouts. Captain Rogers has been stood just beyond the entrance to this living space for approximately thirteen minutes.”**

Oh, well thanks for that Friday.

I hear shuffling and it only takes a few seconds for a teary eyed Bucky to appear in my line of vision. He’s wearing an oversized grey hoodie and a pair of black sweats. His face is bruised and there’s a deep laceration spanning from just below his ear to his temple, and right now, he doesn’t look impressed or angry, he looks disappointed.

“Steve?” He says softly, his voice comes through thick and gravelly and I can tell that he’s pretty emotional right now.

“Look I’m so sorry Buck, I wasn’t eavesdropping, Friday actually told me you guys were on your floors but I didn’t really hear much, I promise. I actually zoned out for quite a lot of it, cursing myself because I didn’t work it out sooner,”

My voice leaves my throat as a wavering mess and for some reason, there’s tears threatening my vision. Bucky pulls his lips into a small and sympathetic smile before he limps over, throwing his arm over my shoulder.

“C’mon Punk,”

We walk into the now completely silent room, Clint is sat on one of the stalls in the kitchen, there’s medical supplies strewn across the counter and I hadn’t actually realised how beaten up our Hawk is. He’s sat in just a pair of loose grey sweats, his ribs, similarly to Tony’s are wrapped up tight in bandages. His eyebrow has split on one side and there’s some dry blood caking around it, he’s got deep lacerations in his right bicep which Bucky is obviously in the process of cleaning up. Three of Clint’s fingers on his left hand are strapped together and he’s currently holding a towel to, an obviously pretty serious wound on his head. This is all without taking into account Clint’s already broken nose, courtesy of a previous mission, and the misc. bruises and cuts covering most of his skin currently on show.

“Hey cap,” he says quietly.

“What’s going on with your head?” I ask softly, Bucky moves away from me and gently places his hand on Clint’s, pulling it away from his head. Underneath the towel there’s a deep cut, it’s bleeding profusely and it looks like it needs at least 12 stitches.

“Well, Barton here got beaten the crap out of by a certain Mr Rumlow. This lovely wound here is courtesy of Rumlow’s knife, which by the way, is now embedded in his neck.” Bucky says coldly, he reaches across Clint and grabs at the antiseptic wipes, Clint hisses slightly as Bucky delicately wipes at the wound.

I watch the two carefully, the way that Bucky’s metal hand is tensed in Clint’s hair as he pulls it out off of his face, the way the fingers on his flesh hand dance across Clint’s wound with precision and delicacy. Right now, there’s a poise and calmness to Bucky that I haven’t seen since we were back in the forties. He’s not guarded like he is 90% of the time, his shoulders are relaxed and slack, the plates in his arm aren’t wurring and cranking as if he’s conscious of how tightly he’s grasping Clint’s hair, his tear stained face isn’t etched into some stern glare like usual, he’s watching his own movements with a deep set concentration; he doesn’t want to hurt Clint.

Barton, on the other hand, is leaned back on the stool, his own gaze trained firmly on Bucky’s face which is merely centimetres away from his own, despite how much pain the man must be in, he looks surprisingly relaxed. His fists clench every so often when Bucky hits a deeper part of the cut, but Clint responds to this by reaching up and curling his hand around Bucky’s metal one, Bucky stops his movements for a second, and I see the small and fond smile painted across his lips that I often find on mine when I watch Tony.

“Stevie, do me a favour?” Bucky says softly.

“Hmm?”

“Can you grab me the needle and string over on the counter there?”

“Sure.”

I move across, closer to the pair and I begin to scavenge around in the blood stained bandages and cotton wool balls, soon I come across the needle which conveniently, is already threaded. I reach over Clint and offer them to Bucky. He stops cleaning the cut and throws me a soft smile before crouching slightly so that his nose is almost touching Clint’s.

“You know the drill punk, no batting me away, and no fidgeting.”

Clint smirks through the pain that seems to send a shudder down his body and he nudges his lips slightly closer to Bucky’s.

“You got it Barnes.”

I shuffle on my feet, feeling slightly awkward in front of the newly announced couple. It’s not that it makes me uncomfortable, because hey, I’m a fine one to talk! But it’s strange seeing two of the most skittish team members so at ease with one another.

Bucky places a feathery kiss onto Clint’s lips before he pulls away and makes a start with the stitches. I remain stood next to the pair, my eyes trying to fall on anything but them.

“So, Stevie, I suppose you’re wondering how long this has been an official thing?” Bucky asks through the concentration thick in his voice.

“I mean, I’ve got a pretty decent idea but I guess.”

“It’s been official for four months.” Clint says past a wince.

“I’m surprised but not shocked, given how close I knew you two were anyways.” I say softly.

Clint chuckles softly and flickers his eyes to meet mine. Beyond his cheerful demeanour I can see the pain picking at his being, but he upholds his usual mirage and throws me a cheeky smile.

“I love him, you know.” Clint says casually, but his voice carries a serious tone and his eyes are boring into mine. He’s never this open, never this vulnerable and easy to read.

“I know.” I say gently, a delicate smile pinching at my lips.

“Good.” The archer says gently.


End file.
